I See You
by zalrb
Summary: What if Stefan and Bonnie spent more time together? What if Bonnie were the one Stefan went on the run with? What if Stefan were the one who made sure Bonnie took the magic-suppressing pills? What if Bonnie and Stefan were in situations that allowed them to get closer? What if Bonnie and Stefan got together? How would it happen? Find out.
1. Chapter 1: I See You

Bonnie sat on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest, arms circling her shins, and cried. Her tears were silent but plenty, slicking her cheeks and reddening her eyes. After leaving Damon she had found herself at the quarry; it was the one place in Mystic Falls that hadn't been changed by Julian's unofficial ownership of the town. She watched the waterfall plummet into the lake; there was something soothing about the rhythm of the powerful white water, it undid the knots in her chest. Everyone always left her. Everyone.

A sound. Twigs snapping. Branches shaking. She wasn't alone anymore. Bonnie turned around, getting onto her feet, readying herself, and then Stefan Salvatore stepped out into the clearing, his expression raw and red and anguished. He stopped walking when he saw Bonnie standing in front of him.

"Bonnie," he said, his voice gravelly. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you? I know that Matt wants you to leave. He won't be happy that you're still here."

"I've lived in this town much longer than Matt Donovan," said Stefan. He sighed. "I'm leaving tomorrow, I just wanted to see if —"

"He's gone, Stefan," said Bonnie quietly. "I just came from there. I didn't see him do it but I know that he did."

"He really went through with it."

"Yeah, he really did."

"So you came here," said Stefan. "I thought I only came here to agonize in existential crises. You're not thinking of committing suicide are you?"

Bonnie furrowed her eyebrows and Stefan shook his head. "Sorry, bad joke. That's just what I came here to do the last time I felt this terrible."

"And now?"

"Now I…" Stefan pushed his mouth to the side. "I guess I came here to remind myself of everything that I've done too. This is where Damon and I turned. Where I _forced_ Damon to turn. Can I really be so _angry_ at him when the things that I've done—"

"Yes," said Bonnie. Stefan looked at her. "You carry so much around, Stefan. Elena used to tell me and when we do speak, Caroline tells me now, but I … I see it too. I felt it almost the moment I met you. The burden of your own conscience… it keeps you from allowing yourself to feel. But you have that right. The right to feel angry and disappointed and …" Bonnie's lip started to quiver. "And resentful…"

Stefan stared at Bonnie, her blank expression betrayed by her swollen eyes and thickened voice. An ache bloomed in his chest and he felt an itch in his throat. It had been so long since he spent time alone with Bonnie that he forgot how easily she made him feel for her.

"Damon cares about you, Bonnie—"

"Isn't it funny how the people who say they care are the ones who leave you the most? Damon cares and he chose himself; Jeremy cared and he didn't answer any of my calls when I came from a literal Prison World; Caroline cares and … I know that she's busy, Stefan, I know that she has so much going on, so much she didn't bargain for but so do I and —" Bonnie shook her head and ran her hands through her hair, laughing slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I don't want to dump all of my — it's not fair to do this to you."

"Sure it is," said Stefan. "Bonnie …" He took a step closer to her. "I'm not going to tell you how strong you are because I know you know that you are, everyone tells you you are and … you are. You are amazing, you hold everyone and everything together … and you're so busy fixing the world and you're so ready to save everyone, no one really asks what you need to be saved. You're just so strong that that's all anyone can see. And that's on them. And that's on me. So I'm asking you now, what do you need?"

Bonnie gazed up at Stefan, her lips parted, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. "Can you just sit with me?"

Stefan nodded his head. "Yeah, I can do that."

They both moved to the edge of the quarry and sat down facing the waterfall. Stefan put his arm around Bonnie and the instant calm she felt startled her; her breathing steadied and the tension in her chest loosened to nothingness, she felt more than comforted, she felt at peace with Stefan pressed against her and in a moment of security, she rested her head on his shoulder. Stefan closed his eyes and exhaled deeply as Bonnie leaned against him, taking solace in the fact that he could offer solace, feeling with such earnestness how dear Bonnie really was to him; this memory of their night together chipping away at the burden the night of his transition, loosening some of his own knots.


	2. Chapter 2: We Are OK

_"Wind has burned your skin  
The lovely air so thin  
The salty water's underneath your feet  
No one's gone in vain  
Here is where you'll stay  
'Cause life has been insane but  
Today has been OK  
Today has been OK  
Today has been OK  
Today has been OK"_

— Emilian Torrini, "Today Has Been OK"

There were about three leaks in the living room. Bonnie sat on the musty red sofa surrounded by three silver basins and listened to the steady _plop-plop-plop_ of the rain droplets as they landed. It didn't take too long for the basins to fill but every time they did, Stefan sped in and out of the living room, emptying and replacing them so that it felt like they were always in the same three places. They were almost full now but Stefan was in the kitchen, doing something to make everything smell delectably spicy and sweet so Bonnie chose not to disturb him until the water was actually spilling onto the floor.

They were in Siena now in a small stucco apartment with Terra Cotta roofing and a tiny walk-out balcony. It came furnished with dusty paintings and tattered furniture. _Rustic,_ Bonnie thought. _I think they call this rustic_. It was nothing like the European adventure she'd had with Damon and Alaric; that summer she'd stayed in four-star hotels, she'd visited museums in the morning and joined in on the pub-crawling at night. Her adventure with Stefan was considerably budgeted in comparison; coach seats and cramped apartments, trekking through hills and hunting leads. More times than not it was rough; consistent electricity or consistent wifi were luxuries on this excursion and yet Bonnie never felt uncomfortable. Irritation at the circumstances spiked her heart rate on mornings she couldn't even shower properly but it dissipated the instant she saw Stefan's face. He calmed her. Always and without fail. It was unsettling.

He seemed to sense when she was about to reach a breaking point because the minute she felt her insides twist up and coil around themselves at having to hide, having to run, having no magic, having to leave, he would suddenly be right next to her.

"It won't be like this forever, you know," he'd say.

At first Bonnie would resist him. "Stefan, I'm fine."

"I know. But in case you're not, in case you're having just a single doubt, I want you to know that you're going to be OK."

Bonnie found his confidence, his simple words full of conviction, comforting in a way she hadn't realized she'd been lacking. For once, someone was being strong so she could have a few moments of precious, unrestrained frustration; for once that frustration stayed at frustration and didn't spiral into hopelessness because someone else was _there,_ actually there _with_ her and not just around her.

It didn't take long for Bonnie to recognize Stefan's frustration; how he expressed it in introspection, in a heavy quiet that seemed to consume him. Bonnie would sit next to him then and stay just as silent as him and just breathe, allowing herself to just be. To just sit there. The first time she did this and felt his quiet ease and lighten, she turned to him.

"We are," she'd said.

"What?"

 _"We_ are going to be OK. We _are_ OK."

"We're OK," said Stefan, nodding his head.

That had been three months ago. Now whenever one of them felt themselves building toward an explosive despair, the other one would say, "We are OK" and wait until it was repeated back. "We're OK."

The basins started to overflow and Bonnie was about to call out to Stefan but the minute she opened her mouth, his panicked voice erupted from the kitchen.

"Oh no. No, no, no!"

Before Bonnie could do more than shift her position on the couch, the lights went out and the apartment went black. Flashes of lightning illuminated sections of the apartment in a ghostly blue and white as the rain pounded on the roof. A gust of wind blew the windows open so that the rain splattered violently into the living room. Bonnie started to run toward the balcony but Stefan made it there before her, pushing the doors shut and locking it with the latch. He turned back around to her, his shirt rain-soaked and sighed heavily.

"I'm really sorry about this."

Bonnie smiled. Before they left Virginia, on their drive to the airport, Stefan asked her if she'd be OK with him using as little compulsion as possible, saving the trick for a last resort or for necessary measures. He wouldn't compel anyone to let them stay in a four-star hotel without paying, for instance, but the owner of this apartment was compelled to forget they ever stayed here the minute they left the premises. He'd also told her that he didn't have enough time to clear out all of the savings he had and he knew she didn't have time to do the same.

"It's going to be … rough. I'm not going to lie."

Bonnie had agreed immediately; it wasn't only that she'd found his request honourable, she'd found it endearing. She found _him_ endearing.

Bonnie stared at him now, at the rain-slicked artwork that was his face, the earnestness that shone in his eyes, that burned through the darkness of the apartment, the concern that furrowed his brow, and she understood how none of them could help it. How Elena and then Caroline and then Katherine and Valerie, how Rebekah even, how they all loved him so easily, so passionately. She cleared her throat and looked down at the floor, slippery with rain.

"Yeah, I'll mop it after dinner," said Stefan, following her gaze with his own. "I know this is nothing like your last trip to Europe."

"No, it definitely is not," said Bonnie, laughing. "Damon pulled out all the stops on that one. Penthouses, room service."

"You must think I'm an idiot for not taking advantage," said Stefan.

Bonnie blinked. "It's funny, there was a time you would never think I think that."

Stefan shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just …"

"I'm not offended, Stefan. I'm not who I was when we first met," said Bonnie. "But I don't think you're an idiot. I think you're decent. Through and through."

They looked at each other for a few moments, the thunder the only noise between them and then Bonnie spoke. "So what is that amazing smell?" She raised her hands and looked around. "The cause of all this."

"Rigatoni alla Genovese," said Stefan. "Which is basically just pasta with … what, why are you laughing?"

Bonnie shook her head. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Do what?"

"Pronounce like that. Like you're Italian or something."

"Bonnie, my last name is Salvatore!"

"Yeah but that doesn't —"

"Salvat _or_ e," said Stefan.

 _"Oh!"_ said Bonnie, giggling. "That makes so much more sense."

Stefan laughed. "You're unbelievable."

"Can you speak Italian?"

"A little."

"What! _How?_ How come I've never heard any? We've been in Italy for two weeks."

"I always send you away when I have to speak Italian. It's embarrassing and the locals make fun of me."

"Now I _have_ to hear it."

"Nope."

"What, are you chicken or something?"

"Absolutely I'm chicken. You are the last person anyone would want to bear witness to them making a fool out of themselves."

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"

"I'm not doing it."

"Oh come on, I cannot be that intimidating."

"Are you kidding me? You're the most intimidating person I know, that wit and confidence, that passion? You're…" Stefan trailed off and a flash of lightning blared outside the window. "Um…" He cleared his throat. "I should get dinner ready."

"I'll help," said Bonnie a little too quickly. She moved toward the kitchen but tripped over the leg of the coffee table. Stefan held her up before she even had a chance to fall, one hand firmly on her arm, the other on her back. She clenched his shirt. She would not look at him. Not this close.

"I should probably get the flashlight first," she said, stepping away from him.

"There are no more batteries. All of the stores are closed," said Stefan.

"If I just had my magic then I could make a fire and none of this would be an issue."

"Bonnie."

"I'm taking the pills, Stefan," said Bonnie, irritated. "I hate them. They make me feel … they're doing something to me but I'm taking them. I know The Armory will find me if I don't."

Stefan put his hand on her arm again and although Bonnie could barely see him she knew he lowered his head to stare directly at her. "We are _OK,_ Bonnie."

Bonnie paused then exhaled. "I know," she said, staring back up at him. "We're OK."

"And we also have candles. They're in the bathroom. You can light them while I get dinner ready."

Bonnie headed toward the bathroom, cautious with her steps. "The kitchen is closer, I could prepare dinner."

"We are _not_ repeating Amsterdam," said Stefan, as he walked back into the kitchen and searched around for plates.

Bonnie shouted back. "It was one time!"

"An entire pot of stamppot just gone!"

"Because I tripped over one of _your_ journals. Who writes on the living room floor?"

"There was no desk and you were on the couch!"

Bonnie squinted her eyes, trying to find the lighter in the cabinet. "You could've picked it up!"

"And I would've but the toilet started to overflow and that needed my immediate attention!" Stefan paused. "That place had _a lot_ of problems."

He heard Bonnie laugh in the living room. "Oh my God it did. The ceiling kept cracking, there was never any hot water, oh and remember Mickey?"

"I still can't believe you named a rat Mickey," said Stefan as he stepped into the small part of the living room that was the designated the dining area. He put a wine bottle on the table next to two glasses. Bonnie had already lit four candles.

"Yes, as in Mouse," she said. "Like Mickey Mouse. Oh shut up, it's clever."

"My name was better."

 _"John?"_ The incredulity in Bonnie's tone made Stefan smile as he put the cutlery on either placemat. "Who names a rat John? John the Rat. Is he an accountant?"

"If I was going to give him an accountant name, I would've named him Doug."

"That is just arbitrary!"

Stefan stepped out of the kitchen with two deep-dish plates in both hands. There were about a dozen candles lit now, giving the room a soft flicker, making shadows dance along the walls. He put the dishes on the table and started pouring wine in each glass. Almost against his better judgement, Stefan looked at Bonnie as she berated him about Amsterdam, as she lit more candles. He looked at the way her silhouette seemed to glow in the small pool of golden light; she was only in shorts and a long tank top but she made the simplest things look extraordinary. He listened with a keen sense of endearment at the mixture of reproachfulness and humour in her voice. It hadn't taken long for her to endear him. Or rather, for him to remember how much she did.

He sat down at the table as she walked over. "This looks amazing," she said, pulling up a chair. She sat down and pulled the plate closer to her. "I don't think I've eaten like this in … well ever actually."

"You haven't even tasted this yet."

"Stefan, you've been cooking our meals for three months now. I think it's safe to say you're a talented cook."

"Still. You have to try it first. This could be the dish you hate."

"We made a rule to stay optimistic remember?"

"This is just being practical."

Bonnie shot him a look from the side of her eye and it accentuated her eyelashes. Stefan hadn't realized how long they were. He tried not to smile as she picked up her fork. With Elena, whenever he cooked for her, he liked to taste his work with her, in unison, they would stare at each other as they chewed, savouring the expressions on one another's faces. Stefan hadn't had a real chance to cook for Caroline; the one time he did, he'd actually been cooking for Ivy and that dinner ended with Caroline calling him a dick. But with Bonnie … Stefan liked watching her take the first bite, gauge her reaction, the nuances of her smile, of her groan of delight; pleasing her pleased him.

Stefan swallowed hard at that thought. It didn't seem right. He and Bonnie were on the run, fighting for survival with Caroline left behind and Damon gone; he was supposed to be anxious to return not enjoying this time with Bonnie. This was not a vacation. He and Bonnie were not … he thought back to how she looked at him before they decided to get dinner ready, with observing and vulnerable eyes, parted lips … Stefan took a swig of wine.

"Damon cooked when you two were in the Prison World, right?"

Bonnie put a forkful of pasta in her mouth and closed her eyes, sighing. Damon's name was jarring in her ears, disruptive to this experience of sitting here eating dinner, eating dinner Stefan made. She latched onto it. "If you could call that cooking," she said. "What he made was barely edible. He would make these terrible blueberry pancakes. Turns out it was some form of self-punishment, I don't know."

Stefan stared at her, chewing slowly. "It's OK to miss him."

"I'm too angry at him to miss him."

"So you miss him," said Stefan, smiling. "I see you, Bonnie. I see what your anger means. You wouldn't care anymore if you didn't miss him."

Bonnie didn't say anything. She did. Miss Damon. But not as much as the thought that she would, not as desperately as she had the night he chose himself. Being with Stefan had not only made her feel less alone, but she didn't feel _lonely_ with him. It was unbelievable how different two brothers could be. Now she'd been alone with both Salvatores for the same amount of time. Damon had driven her crazy in the nineties; she'd wanted to tear her hair out, bang her head against the wall. There were times she fantasized about setting him on fire. But there was affection behind the madness; an inexplicable bond that sprouted ties between them. Through the bluster and the bickering, she saw his redeeming qualities, his loyalty, his pain. Being in literal hell together bound her to him.

But Stefan was … His warmth enveloped her. Naturally. She felt safe. Period. No pretense, no fronts, she was all of herself with him and she couldn't help it, she couldn't help the vulnerabilities, the parts of herself she shut down and locked away that surfaced in his presence. She could _breathe_ around him, she could laugh and banter, not quarrel, but tease, he was fresh air and it felt like betrayal. To Damon. To Jeremy. That type of intimacy was not meant for her and him.

"Well me missing Damon must be nothing in comparison to you missing Caroline," said Bonnie.

"Oh, well, yeah…"

"Did you get to speak to her last night? I only got two minutes with her last week, the wifi here is so shoddy."

"I didn't try last night," said Stefan. "The last time we spoke … she was just so busy with the girls and Alaric. She's trying to get a routine down. I don't want to mess with that."

"Must be hard for you."

Stefan smiled ruefully but said nothing. "We are OK."

Bonnie knew what she was supposed to say but couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Not yet. Stefan looked up from his plate and stared at her, their eyes locking. How could a gaze be so calming and so intense at the same time? Stefan clenched his jaw, realizing he was holding his breath.

"We're OK," said Bonnie finally. "So we should just _be_ OK."

Stefan took another sip of wine. "You mean just …"

"I mean we should just _be_ here. Eating dinner. We don't have to…"

"Remind ourselves," said Stefan, finishing her sentence. "We can just … be OK. _We_ are OK."

"Yeah, we are. It's OK. We're OK."

"OK," said Stefan.

Bonnie nodded her head and put another forkful of pasta in her mouth. "So why," she said. "Why did you learn to cook? When did you learn to cook?"

"Well," said Stefan. "When you've been alive for as long as I have, you kind of try everything. I tried music for a bit, violin. Painting. Poetry."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows, smiling. "You wrote poetry?"

"I wrote poetry for a very long time. Even when I was human," said Stefan. "A lot of my journals are full of …" He shook his head, smiling. "Pretentious, overly descriptive, purple prose."

He and Bonnie started laughing. She took a sip of wine and then circled her finger around the rim, watching the candlelight flicker across his face.

"It wasn't until the fifties that I realized I sucked at it. And cooking … I don't know, it relaxes me. You have to precise and exact but also creative, inventive. Two worlds in one, you know?"

"Never thought of it that way," said Bonnie. "You look at things so differently…"

"And you?" said Stefan.

Bonnie laughed. "What about me?"

"What do you do?"

"What do you mean, what do I —?"

"I know you," said Stefan. "I've known you for seven years. I've been on the battlefront with you, saved Elena with you, you've even been the last person I've seen before I died. I know you. But I…" Stefan laughed. "I don't know you. The details. And I know you're a woman full of details. So what do you do, Bonnie? Besides save everyone around you."

Bonnie pressed her lips together, staring at her fingers circling the rim of the wine glass. Finally, she looked up at Stefan from beneath her eyelashes. "Dance," she said. "I dance."

Stefan smiled. "What kind? Ballet? Tap? Interpretative?"

"You know your dance," said Bonnie.

Stefan shrugged. "Like I said, I've been around for a while."

"Contemporary," said Bonnie. "I do contemporary dance."

"Would you perform something?"

Bonnie cocked her eyebrow. "Sure," she said, taking another sip of wine. "When I hear some Italian."

"You're mean," said Stefan, laughing

"I think it's a fair trade."

"You're never going to hear it."

"Then you'll never see it."

"It's too bad," said Stefan. "It must be something. Watching you dance."

Bonnie's lips parted and Stefan's eyes widened slightly. He looked back down at his plate.

"I don't usually talk like this," said Bonnie. "I don't know what it is. If it's just this … place. It brings something out in you, I guess."

"It's been said Italy does that," said Stefan. "Lucy Honeychurch and all."

"I don't…" Bonnie shook her head. "I don't follow."

Stefan tilted his head to the side. "Lucy Honeychurch? _A Room With A View_?"

"Never read it," said Bonnie.

"I mean it's only considered to be one of the greatest novels in English literature."

Bonnie shrugged. "I just never got around to it."

Stefan looked at her for a moment and then got up from the table. "Hold on a minute." He disappeared into the bedroom and what seemed like a second later, he appeared behind Bonnie's chair holding a battered book. He held it out to her. "Take a look."

"You brought it with you? You didn't have time to get all of your savings when you left Mystic Falls but you had enough time to pack this book?"

"I always keep at least nine or ten books in my getaway bag. Need to keep myself entertained."

"And this book is entertaining?"

"It's profound," said Stefan. "You look sceptical."

"It's my nature."

Stefan laughed. He paused for a minute and then headed over to the living room "Tell you what, I'll read the first chapter and if you're not intrigued by the end of it then you'll hear some Italian. If you are, you perform something."

Bonnie smiled. "Sounds fair."

She followed Stefan to the living room and they both sat on the couch, shifting their weight to get comfortable. Bonnie could see the creases in the book cover even in the candlelight. He read this book often. Stefan cleared his throat.

" 'The Signora had no business to do it,' said Miss. Bartlett. "No business'…" He started laughing. "What are you doing?"

Bonnie was stretching her neck to look at the book, digging into Stefan's side. "I want to read along with you."

"Oh, do you prefer me not to read because I can just give —"

"No, I like your voice, I could listen to you all day, I just need to read along," said Bonnie. "I need to see where I am."

"You don't trust easily."

Bonnie stared at him.

"OK. Come here." Stefan raised his arm so Bonnie could inch closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder so she had a full view of the book. She put her hand on his chest and Stefan put his arm around her. He leaned back against the couch, settling in, bringing the book closer to their faces. He started to read again.

"'The Signora had no business to do it,' said Miss Bartlett, "No business at all. She promised us south rooms with a view close together, instead of which here are north rooms, looking into a courtyard, and'…"

Bonnie followed the words on the page, Stefan's voice bringing a small smile to her face, melding with the rhythm of the rain; the warmth in his tone, in his nature eradicated the peculiarity of hearing no heart beat against his chest. Stefan continued to read, listening to the sound of Bonnie's steady breathing rather than his own voice, rather than Forster's words. And as they both sat curled on the couch, shrouded in darkness, illuminated with candlelight, secreted by pounding rain, they felt OK. They were OK.


	3. Chapter 3: Suspension of Grief

The buzzing woke Bonnie up but her eyes were still fogged over with tiredness as she looked around the room to find her bearings. There was a chill in the air that Bonnie remembered wasn't so sharp when she'd been sleeping; she shivered beneath her blanket and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling her legs under. Right, they had moved on to England. Not London, though, too obvious, too popular. Stefan had chosen a small coastal town about four hours outside of the capital.

Stefan. Where was he? Where _was_ he? _Where_ was he? Where was _he?WHERE WAS_ —

At that moment Bonnie heard the faint pounding of what had to be the shower. She shifted her weight, propping herself up on her elbows so she could see the bathroom door. It was closed. Relief flooded her insides and she exhaled deeply at the knowledge that he was safe. It was a strange sensation; whenever Stefan was outside of Bonnie's field of vision, whenever she was outside of his, an anxiety more intense than she'd ever experienced attacked her body, jumbling her mind with scenarios and worry. Then the instant they found each other again, she was blanketed with a calm so peculiar because it made her feel as if everything in the world was at peace. Bonnie bit her lip. She had no idea what to call that kind of emotion. It was too new to her. Bonnie lay back down and put her hand on her forehead, sighing heavily.

The buzzing continued and Bonnie groaned with irritation. It was six o'clock in the morning. "Who the hell is calling now?" She reached over to the wobbly nightstand and picked up the burner. "Hello?"

"Bonnie?"

Caroline's voice made Bonnie flinch and she sat upright in bed. "Caroline, hi!"

 _"Hey!"_ There was a pause. "Um, how are you? I know it's been a couple of weeks since we tried to Skype or Facetime, just with work and the girls…"

"It's fine," said Bonnie. "Probably better anyway, can't risk too much contact but everything's been good. You know, as good as things can be when you're on the run," she added quickly.

"It's kind of great that you get to travel the world twice, right?" said Caroline. "When we were kids all you talked about was getting out of Mystic Falls and now you're jetsetting across the globe. The circumstances might not be ideal but …"

"Yeah, totally, Stefan makes for a great travel buddy," said Bonnie.

"And um, speaking of Stefan, he's OK right? There isn't some horrible reason why you're picking up his phone?"

"What? No! Of course not, I…" Bonnie pressed her lips together. "I didn't even realize it was his, the phone rang and I just picked it up from the nightstand."

"The nightstand?"

"Yeah."

"His phone was on your side of the nightstand?" said Caroline. "Or are you two sharing a bed?"

"No," said Bonnie.

"I mean, I wouldn't care if you were, it's just something that you know, you could mention."

"Separate beds," said Bonnie.

She wasn't lying exactly. There was one bed in the apartment and Stefan had insisted on taking the couch. Last night, falling asleep together … that hadn't been intentional. After _A Room With A View_ , they'd developed a newfound tradition to read a book set in whichever country they were staying in at the time. This time, Bonnie had forced _Harry Potter_ and Stefan had argued with her at the bookstore. "Bonnie, they use wands and they fly on broomsticks."

"It's fiction," said Bonnie, picking _The Philosopher's Stone_ off the rack. "This is hardly the first book that depicts witches this way."

"It's just so corny," said Stefan. "This writer doesn't get anything right, there's no celestial magic or grimoires or nature or —"

"How would you know if you haven't even read the series?"

"It's childish."

"It's a _children's_ book!"

"Then why do you want us to read this? How about Dickens? _Oliver Twist_?"

"I want to read something fun," said Bonnie.

Stefan rolled his eyes and leaned against the book rack. Bonnie had regarded him and grinned. "You're afraid," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"You're afraid that you're going to like it and then you can't be a literary snob anymore."

"I'm not a literary snob."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow and Stefan laughed softly.

"Fine," he said. "Fine, we'll give this a shot but if I don't like the first one, then—"

"Yes, we can read Dickens or Austen or some other dead writer of your choosing, Stefan."

He'd grinned at her then, gazing at her with that stare he had, the one that was both soft and intense so that Bonnie never felt uncomfortable or awkward but her breath would catch in her throat.

They were in the middle of reading _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ when sleep overcame them. Bonnie didn't even remember when she'd started to feel tired. She pressed the phone to her ear and closed her eyes; that was why it hadn't been so cold when she slept, Stefan had been next to her, his body solid like marble but the warmth of his skin, of _him,_ his essence embracing her had cocooned Bonnie with such comfort that she'd actually felt cosy. His arm, strong yet gentle around her middle, had kept a grin on her face throughout the night; even now her cheeks were sore.

"You know how I get in the morning," she said finally. "Stefan's in the shower, I heard a phone, I just picked it up, assuming it was mine. The lights aren't even on."

"I'm not accusing you of anything, you know," said Caroline, sighing. "I'm just, I'm so tired. I have to get to bed soon to be up in five hours and I just wanted to wish Stefan a 'happy birthday' on his actual birthday."

Bonnie furrowed her eyebrows. "Happy birthday?"

"Yeah it's November first."

"I didn't even know…"

"What date it was? Jesus, Bonnie," said Caroline, laughing. "How far off the map are you two that you can't keep track of the days of the week?"

"No, that's not … never mind." Bonnie pushed her mouth to the side. In six years she hadn't known when Stefan's birthday had been. She was sure Elena had mentioned it once; probably Damon but for some reason it hadn't stuck.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," said Caroline. "I have to bring the girls to daycare tomorrow."

"OK," said Bonnie. "I'll let Stefan know you called."

"Thanks, Bonnie. I miss you, you know."

"Yeah," said Bonnie. "I miss you too."

Stefan stood in the shower, eyes closed, pressing his forehead against the wall, allowing the water to pound down on his back. He'd always been an early riser, waking up just before dawn, energized with an eagerness to face the day, to do something, anything to lessen the turmoil within him, to try and live so life itself could become more bearable. Waking up in the early hours of the morning was nothing new to him. But this time it was different. This time he forced himself awake, to part from the bed, to part from Bonnie.

He'd never intended to fall asleep on the bed; he certainly never intended to fall asleep entwined with her, her body perfectly melded with his, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to lie in his arms. He thought back to the night before, to how he felt so at peace, almost blissful, as if his body was made for this purpose, to enclose Bonnie's in his. Stefan sighed and started to gently bang his head against the tile.

Nothing happened and nothing was going to but every moment he spent with Bonnie felt like a betrayal to Caroline, to every woman he had ever known, and it was preposterous. It didn't make any sense. What was it about Bonnie Bennett that evoked such overwhelming, disproportionate feeling in him? He had never met a woman like her, that was true. Elena had inspired him, Katherine had provoked him, Rebekah had thrilled him, and Caroline had delighted him. But Bonnie … she was a woman of passion, of hard steel and quiet vulnerability, fierce and warm, awe-inspiring. He didn't know what he felt around her and that was the problem. He never knew how he'd react to her.

Their proximity to each other last night, that was what made him so comfortable he could sleep. He'd been sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed over at the ankle and Bonnie was curled next to him, her feet tucked beneath her, her head on his shoulder. They'd finished the ninth chapter and it was her turn to read; when she started speaking with an accent, he laughed.

"What is that?"

"My British accent," said Bonnie.

Stefan laughed louder and Bonnie widened her eyes, her smiling mouth opened in surprise. "What? _What?_ I'll have you know I fooled so many people since we've been here."

"Ah yes, I'm sure," said Stefan, grinning. "They weren't just entertaining the crazy tourist to make you go away."

"Shut up." Bonnie took the book and rapped him against the head with it. "Anyway, very soon, I'm going to make you admit it."

"I admit nothing."

"The fact that you know what I'm talking about means that we're halfway there. We're on the third book, you're a Potterhead now. It's OK, I won't judge you."

"Please," said Stefan. "Never again use the word 'Potterhead'. It's not even a word!"

"Snob."

"Yes," said Stefan, laughing. "And please never forget that."

Bonnie grinned and re-opened the book, shifting her position so that she was halfway lying down, her head against Stefan's chest, as she continued to read. Stefan closed his eyes as he smelled the faint fragrance of her shampoo, warmth blossomed from the spot on his chest where her head was nestled and he was overcome with an unexpected serenity. That was when he grew tired.

He turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist. He was in the middle of pulling on his pants when Bonnie's scream resounded in his ears. Swiftly, he wrenched open the bathroom door and charged into the bedroom.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Bonnie jerked her head toward Stefan. She stood beside the bed, wrapped in a pink robe but she didn't say anything as she stared at him; her lips were parted and her eyes were intense, blazing. She made it a point to look in his eyes but Stefan could see her gaze wander downward before finding his face again. He suddenly felt both self-conscious and flattered, his gut twisting and roiling. He swallowed hard.

"Are you OK? I head you scream."

"Spider," said Bonnie. "There was a huge spider in the bed, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I, um…" Bonnie couldn't remember what she was saying. She wished he'd put on a shirt, how could he expect her to form full sentences when he wasn't fully dressed.

"Oh." He closed his eyes and let out a little laugh. "Do you want me to take care of it?"

He took a step forward and Bonnie took a step back. "No," she said. She couldn't have him so close to her, not like that. "No, I will do it. I have been to prison worlds, I have been a ghost, I should be able to handle a spider. Thank you. Sorry again for um, for screaming, I uh… aren't you cold or something?"

"Yeah," said Stefan. "I'm just going to…" He walked over to the living room and started rummaging through his dufflebag for a shirt.

"So were you not going to tell me that it's your birthday," said Bonnie, staring at his back. She immediately thought back to the first time she ever saw him. _It's a hot back …_ She took a deep breath and turned back around, looking through the sheets for the spider.

"I wasn't not going to tell you, I just didn't think it was a big deal in the midst of everything."

"Everything is exactly why it's a big deal," said Bonnie. "So what do you want to do?"

"There's a lead not too far from here," said Stefan, shrugging on a shirt. He started to do up the buttons and turned back around, watching Bonnie look through the sheets. "A lead for you this time not for me. A guy who used to work for the Armory. He went way underground. We should talk to him, see if he knows how to get them off your trail."

"I say pub crawl," said Bonnie. She flinched inwardly at seeing the spider on the bed. She grabbed _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ and swiped it off the sheets so that it landed on the floor.

"A pub crawl?"

"Yes," said Bonnie. "A pub crawl. We've been running all over Europe for months, chasing down leads that don't turn out to be leads at all because they don't lead us anywhere, and we haven't had a drink once. We've earned a day of drinking. And it's your birthday."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"No," said Bonnie. "But that's the point. I'm not going to let your fear of celebrating stop this."

"I don't have a fear of celebrating."

"Stop lying, Stefan. I know you. I see you," said Bonnie. "You're not Damon. Damon refused to have hope because the fear of being disappointed overwhelmed him. You're hopeful. And you're strong. But you won't let yourself be happy. And I'm not saying drinking will make you happy but I am saying it will suspend your grief."

"Pub crawl it is," said Stefan, grinning.

"Great! I'm just going to shower."

Stefan stared as Bonnie gathered her clothes and headed to the bathroom, trying to ignore the guilt roiling in the stomach, the knowledge that was a constant nagging in the back of his head, that merely spending time with Bonnie, reading with her, laughing with her, _was_ his suspension f grief.


End file.
